


Something More Than Tin

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_sexstars, F/M, HP: EWE, M/M, Multi, PWP, Prostitution, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy knows Draco better than he is willing to admit, and manages to obtain the perfect anniversary gift: one Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something More Than Tin

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted as a part of the hp_sexstars community challenge on Livejournal. Thanks to eternaleponine for the beta. This is EWE and pretty much PWP.
> 
> JK Rowling owns these characters. I just like to have some fun with them.

“Darling?”

Draco glanced up from where he sat on the bed, his knees bent, legal paperwork spread out around him. “Oui?” he murmured, watching his wife as she padded naked from the master bathroom to her dressing table. “You look lovely, my dear.” It was the sort of idle comment he would make to anticipate whatever it was she was seeking, often reassurance that he still loved her as much as he had when they married ten years past.

And of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? They had been friends almost since birth, and out of everyone, Pansy perhaps knew him the best. She had come back to his side when the war was done, despite the horrific way he had treated her, and despite the scars that disfigured his skin. Lips pressed thinly, quill scraping across paper as he added a note to himself, he added, “I do love you more every day.”

Pansy settled on the stool, graceful arms raised as she swept her long dark curls up onto her head and regarded herself in the mirror. “Have you given any thought to what you might like to do this weekend?” Her gaze lowered slightly, slipping over his body, eyes alight in a way he most definitely recognized.

With a swallowed sigh, Draco set aside his papers, catching them into a neat pile before placing them on the nightstand. “This weekend?” One pale eyebrow arched in a long-perfected delicate move. “I was considering sleeping in.” He stretched, arms behind his head, lean body exposed as one foot artfully kicked the sheets away. “Perhaps until noon. Then work, of course. You see, I’ve a mountain of briefs to wade through. Then perhaps early to bed. Unless, of course, you had other plans?”

A slow smirk twisted the corner of his mouth, fond and amused as he teased her. He had informed his partners that if anyone were to contact him on Saturday, at any time of day, he would slowly flay them once he was back in the office. They assumed he was joking, but he expected it would suffice. After all, one must spoil one’s wife unmercifully on one’s tenth wedding anniversary.

She twisted her body just so, the light from above making pale skin glow, the tips of her breasts soft and rosy. “And the tickets I saw for the opera?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, those?” Draco sighed. “If you insist, my dear, I suppose we could stir ourselves to attend. Perhaps with dinner reservations before.”

There was something about the way she moved, quick and light on her feet, sinuous as a snake. She charmed him, his breath catching as she joined him on the bed, straddling him, her body soft and warm and wet as she slid along his length. He was half-hard, and quickly rose beneath her, hips pressing into her. She thought she would control this, but she never truly did. 

Perhaps if he gave in, she would be done and sleep soon.

He refused to glance at the pile of paperwork by the bed, instead gripping her hips as he shifted, cock slipping between her folds and thrusting deep. When she cried out, he thrust again, palm stroking across one small breast, rolling her nipple under his touch.

“How—” her word cut off with a quick moan, then a long keening cry as he teased her nipple. “Merlin, Draco—five seconds—just—”

“Mm?” Five seconds, yes, he’d be happy to finish then. He murmured around her nipple, caught between teeth and tongue as he suckled at her breast. “What is it, my dear?”

“Home—” she gasped, hips grinding down on him. “What time—will we be home Saturday night?”

His tongue raked over her nipple, knowing how hot it made her when he was rough with her breasts. His hands slid down to her hips, parting her cheeks, fingers pressing behind her against the small puckered hole. When she bucked, he murmured approvingly, and held her still as he stroked slowly into her. “Perhaps eleven?” His voice had none of the tremors of hers as he considered her answer carefully. “Why?”

Pansy tried to grind down, pressing back against his fingers. “Draco—my bum. Do you want it?”

“In a moment.” He stroked fingers through her fluids, coating her tiny hole with it, pressing one finger inside, rewarded by a cry, her body shuddering. “That’s my darling. Now, why does it matter what time we’re home?”

“Gift,” she gasped, wriggling over him, struggling to find rhythm. “Oh fuck, Draco, just please take my bum. I want to get off, darling, and you’re teasing me terribly.”

One hand slid forward, thumb finding her small nub, rubbing at in soft circles as he pressed into her with cock and finger both. He circled her, feeling her sharp cry rising as she fucked herself on his cock, rising and falling until she cried out in her spasms, and fell forward against his chest, breath rough.

He rubbed her back. “What gift?” he asked softly.

She nuzzled his throat. “I’ve hired someone to join us,” she murmured. “I thought it might be fun to have a little something extra in our bed. Someone to help me please you.”

Draco’s cock twitched, and she moaned. Someone else in their bed? After ten years, the only woman he’d ever known was Pansy. The only sex he’d ever known was in this bed, or with his own right hand before their marriage. “I approve,” he murmured. “On the condition that you don’t mind if I take her bum as well.”

With that, he withdrew and flipped her over, shoving a pillow under her belly, exposing her arse to his hungry gaze. Draco had learned long ago that he preferred it, that he could rarely come within Pansy otherwise. His cock already slick from her juices, he pressed into her, groaning as her tight arse surrounded him, squeezing him. Her fingers fisted in the sheets as she pushed back, hungry for more. Thankfully, Pansy seemed to love this, needing it almost as much as he did, her low moans and cries, the feel of her shuddering around him letting him lose himself in the feel of fucking her soundly.

His hands gripped her hips as he pounded into her and he tried to imagine what it would be like to bugger someone else like this. He imagined hips that were wider, more muscular. He imagined lower voices, he imagined hands touching him, he imagined a mouth on his balls as he pounded into this unknown arse.

With a guttural cry, Draco emptied himself into her, breathing rough and rasping as he collapsed beside his wife, tugging her close. Five minutes of cuddles, then he could return to his work.

“I already told them you like buggering,” Pansy murmured sleepily. “I do love you, husband of mine.”

“And I, you,” Draco murmured in return. He kissed the top of her head, and reflected on those words.

He wasn’t lying, after all. He did love his wife. And the sex was… pleasant... He just rarely found that he truly _desired_ her any more. Perhaps this weekend would bring something different. A bit of a change might be exactly what they needed, after all.

#

Pansy had been amorous all night, and Draco was thankful for the privacy their box seat provided. During intermission, she had pulled the front curtains closed and dropped in front of Draco, opening his trousers and swallowing him down. She brought him to hardness before standing to show him that she had left her knickers at home. Straddling him with her evening gown spilling around them, she rode him until he had to muffle her cries with a kiss. He turned her then, bending her over the seat so he could bugger her, tugging her breasts free of her gown, pinching her nipples tightly until she contracted around him again and he emptied his seed into her bum. 

Tucking themselves neatly away, putting themselves back to propriety, they opened the curtains to watch the second act. Hidden just beneath the edge of the balcony, no one could see that Draco’s hand remained beneath Pansy’s skirt, his fingers stroking her in time with the music, not allowing her to finish until he brought her off with the swelling crescendo of the finale.

He pressed his fingers against her lips, watching as her pink tongue delicately licked one finger clean of her own fluids. “Mm,” she murmured, tucking herself in close. “Take me home, darling. But you musn’t open your eyes once you step inside the door, not until I tell you to.”

“You’ve already told me what your gift is,” he reminded her, gathering her close before he twisted in place, arriving at their personal apparition point. He didn’t let go as he pushed the door open, pausing when she pressed her hand to his eyelids.

“I did,” she agreed. “But I didn’t tell you _everything_. Close your eyes, my darling. I promise you will love this.”

With a sigh, Draco closed his eyes, letting her guide him inside and standing still as he heard the door close behind him. A hand clasped his, spreading his fingers as it was lifted, and he felt lips enclose his fingers. Not Pansy, he was sure of that. The touch of the tongue stroking against his skin to taste her juices was rougher, pressing hard before the mouth suckled. That sensation shot straight to his groin, his cock starting to fill. “Your gift has a lovely mouth, Pansy,” he murmured.

A hand skimmed over the front of his trousers. “Would you like to feel it on your prick?” Pansy offered. “Come with me darling, and I’ll sit you down, and you can just lean back and enjoy.”

Draco’s fingers slipped free of the unknown mouth as Pansy nudged him towards the sofa. Her fingers picked apart the buttons of his shirt, while unknown hands tugged his jacket free and then helped pull his shirt from his shoulders. Before he sat back, Pansy had his trousers undone, her small hand slipped inside to caress him as she murmured happily. The trousers were pulled over his hips, then he was pushed backwards, and he sat down, his prick half hard as he spread his knees, the trousers, underwear and shoes all gone.

He considered peeking, but there was something about _not knowing_ that added to his interest. He listened to the movement in the room, the soft sounds of clothing being shed, the wet smack of a mouth meeting another mouth in a hungry kiss. He tried to imagine Pansy kissing another woman, someone small and fair, perhaps, to offset her dark hair. With one hand, he stroked his prick, trying to match images to what he heard.

A hand covered his, large and a bit rough, surprising him enough that he jerked his own hand away. He felt one slow stroke, then that mouth was taking him in, swallowing him down with a quick gulp. The tongue pressed flat against the vein on the underside of his prick, the suction strong as Draco thrust his hips forward into the waiting mouth. There was a low groan, a murmured sound, and from somewhere on the other side of the room the wet sound of Pansy’s fingers in her twat.

Draco’s head fell back, a soft gasp catching in his throat. When he thrust again, he felt himself go deeper, into the tight passage of the stranger’s throat. A wordless sound then, his hand coming down to tangle in curly hair, gripping it, holding that lovely mouth in place so he could fuck it.

“Don’t let him come,” Pansy called, a low moan in her voice. “He’s going to bugger you. I promised him he could have your bum and I want to see it.”

Strong hands pressed against the inside of Draco’s thighs as the mouth pulled away, far stronger than he’d expected. His eyes flew open, gaze dropping to look at the person kneeling between his legs, meeting the bright green eyes staring back at him.

Draco blinked. “Potter?”

His prick should have flagged. It _should_ have gone soft to see any bloke, and this bloke in particular. But to Draco’s mortification, blood surged into it, and he groaned loudly. Potter leaned forward, his tongue licking a drip from the tip of Draco’s prick and he groaned again at the feel of it. “Your mouth is magic,” Draco murmured. “Is your ass as talented? Pansy tells me I’m to take your ass, buggering you for all you’re worth. So tell me, Potter, is that what you want of me?”

Some day, Draco would want to know the truth behind how this came about. How was it that Potter had been hired by his wife, _paid_ to be in their bed for this night. And some day he would want to know how Pansy _knew_ that what he truly wanted was the feel of a bloke’s ass surrounding him. But not now. Right now, he wanted to fuck Harry Potter, and he wanted his wife to watch.

Potter didn’t answer the question, pushing himself to stand and straddling Draco’s legs, sliding forward until their pricks rubbed against each other. He framed Draco’s face with his hands, leaning in to claim his mouth, tongue slipping between his lips. “Harry,” he said. “If you’re going to shag me, you might as well call me Harry. It’s not as if we’re still in school.”

No, they most certainly were not at Hogwarts, not with Harry in his lap, rubbing up against him, and that talented tongue teasing at his mouth. “Fine,” Draco agreed. “Harry, then.” He gripped Harry’s ass cheeks, pulling them apart so he could press his finger against the tight hole. It was slick, already prepared for him before they arrived home; Draco’s breath caught as the first knuckle of his finger slipped easily inside.

“Can I fuck your wife?”

The question was a whisper of hot breath against Draco’s ear, a hand pressing their cocks together as Harry curled in close. Draco looked over Harry’s shoulder, seeing Pansy sprawled in a chair, one leg carelessly tossed over the arm, her head back and mouth open while her eyes were closed. Her breasts spilled over the top of her gown, and the skirt was rucked up so that Draco could see her fingers disappearing into her slick pussy, three fingers at a time while her thumb rolled against her nub. She moaned loudly.

“She wants to be fucked until she can’t think straight,” Harry murmured. “And you want to fuck me… We can manage both at once, you know.”

“Oh?” One thing Draco had never been was creative in bed. After all, a war had interrupted his youthful fantasies and explorations, and marriage to Pansy had come not all that long after. They had a _proper_ marriage, with proper bedding, in their bed, just the two of them. And occasionally elsewhere than their bed, but nothing quite like this. Until now.

“I’ll show you.” Harry pushed back, standing, and Draco couldn’t help but appreciate the view. The former hero of the wizarding world had rock hard abs and a flat belly, with a dark trail leading down to the thatch where his hard cock jutted out, thick and proud. Harry held out one hand, and Draco gripped it willingly, coming to his feet and hard up against Harry’s chest.

A male chest, with a smattering of hair (unlike Draco himself, who had little hair on his own chest) and flat nipples. Still… Draco let his hand feather over one nipple, pinching lightly when Harry groaned. He twisted just a bit harder, until Harry gasped, and Draco claimed his mouth, swallowing down that sound that went straight to his groin.

This gift was exactly what he had wanted. It was perfect, and it was eerie how well his wife knew his desires, when he had never dared give them voice.

When he glanced at her again, she was sitting upright, watching him, a small smirk tilting her lips. “Happy, dearest?” she murmured.

“Very.”

“Bed,” Harry said, one hand slipping down to squeeze Draco’s prick.

Who was Draco to deny this? “Bed,” he agreed.

#

Draco watched as Harry stretched out beside Pansy on the bed. He should feel jealous, he suspected, but he didn’t. If Harry could give Pansy pleasure, that would save Draco from the trouble of doing so himself. It was an academic interest that he had as he watched Harry slide over her, hips between hers, her pale hips lifting to meet him as she moaned. He teased her until she cried out again, but Draco didn’t care to pay attention. Instead his gaze slipped to the bum raised in the air over her, the two perfect cheeks, waiting for his attention.

He didn’t need Harry to tell him what to do after all; Draco could figure it out, now that he saw a part of it in practice.

He squeezed Harry’s arse, spreading the two cheeks to expose the glistening, prepared hole. As Harry pressed forward, filling Pansy, Draco slipped one finger inside of him. Perfect. This was what he wanted.

It drew him in, needing this even more than he wanted it. Draco knelt on the bed behind Harry, not worrying about further preparation. He just wanted to be inside that tight hole, fucking Harry Potter into the sheets, and into his own fucking wife. He swallowed hard, then gripped Harry’s hips and thrust in. Harry grunted, pushed forward, deep into Pansy who cried out, shivering beneath the pair of them.

“Oh, Merlin… just bugger him… hard, darling, hard,” she whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

She was purely selfish in that moment, Draco knew. The harder he fucked Harry, the harder Harry would fuck her. But he didn’t care if it was selfish or for him; all he knew was that he was balls deep in the saviour of the wizarding world, and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

He groaned loudly, fingers digging into Harry’s hipbones. He thought that Harry’s full attention was on Pansy, his mouth at her breast, teasing her, but one hand crept back to clutch at Draco’s thigh. Draco’s hand slid down to cover it, their fingers tangling together. Anchored there, he started to thrust, pounding into Harry hard enough to make him sway forward, Pansy crying out beneath him. He knew that catch in her breath, heard her tumble into an orgasm, whimpering as she didn’t come down, and he knew that this would make her break apart over and over again.

Draco leaned over Harry’s back, kissing the nape of his neck, teeth scraping as he tasted sweat. “Do you like it?” he murmured. “Do you like knowing that’s my prick buried deep in your ass? She’s squeezing you, but I’m the one who’s inside you. I’m the one fucking you so hard you’re going to shatter. _Come now_ , Harry,” Draco ordered, fingers tight enough to bruise against his hip. “I want to feel you come.”

He rocked against him, twisting his hips a bit, hearing the groan every time he brushed against the right spot inside of Harry. The other man started to thrust back, and Draco knew he had him, knew he’d pushed past whatever wall Harry might have that tried to keep this impersonal. The fingers gripped by his hip clenched, and Harry cried out, body bowed and taut as the orgasm swept through him.

Draco fought to keep his own control, but couldn’t manage, breath shuddering and uneven as he came.

The world went grey a moment, returning to focus with Draco leaning against Harry’s back. He pulled, tugging Harry with him as they rolled off of Pansy who lay there, eyes closed, breathing soft and slightly ragged.

“Is she alright?” Harry asked, fingertips ghosting over Pansy’s chest.

Draco tugged him back, their hips still fit together. He liked this, felt more awake and _involved_ than he had in years after sex. “She’s fine. Sometimes, if you push her hard enough and through enough orgasms, she’ll pass out. Makes it blissfully quiet while she sleeps. Usually I get work done then.”

Harry laughed, pulling enough away from Draco that he could twist and roll over to face him. “You work after shagging your wife. Are you serious?”

“Quite,” Draco confirmed. “She is far more interested in sex than I am.” And it had been a terribly long time since sex had been more than a chance for an orgasm inside a warm and willing body.

“You didn’t seem uninterested tonight.” Harry’s hand slipped between them, stroking Draco’s flaccid cock.

Draco’s lips pressed thinly. “I wasn’t.” A moment’s silence as his eyes drifted closed, body focused on the firm pull of Harry’s hand against his skin. “Are you going to explain how it is you ended up in my bed?”

“Your wife paid me.”

“I knew that,” Draco almost laughed. “It’s more the question of how you came to be for hire.”

Fingertips pressed against his lips and when Draco opened his eyes, Harry was leaning in close, replacing the fingertip with his mouth, teasing Draco until he fell into the kiss. “A story for the next time,” Harry murmured.

“Will that be paid as well?”

“I have to earn enough to keep a roof over my head,” Harry pointed out. “But it’ll be cheaper when it’s just you and me.”

This was going to be the sort of expensive anniversary gift that kept giving throughout the year, but Draco found he didn’t mind. “Leave me your contact information,” he decided. When Harry merely murmured a word, and Draco felt something pulse in his groin, he had to ask, “What was that?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Harry admitted, adding a cleansing charm. By the time Harry slid down his body, Draco’s prick was stiff again, ready for Harry to swallow him.

Draco’s eyes closed, body arching, fingers tangling in the thick black hair. This was most certainly the best anniversary gift he could remember.


End file.
